They said it'd be as easy as falling asleep, that I'd wake up and be in the same server as the rest of my family, that I wouldn't even notice the transfer taking place.
They were so very wrong.
I know they've kept my life support on for now, the pain thrumming through my veins with each steady beat of my heart tells me that much. The staggered, almost twitching, movements of everyone I meet tells me that they're somewhat alive as well. Or as alive as you can call this.
I haven't found my family yet, not even a single trace of the "familial mindscapes" I was promised - everywhere I'd ever been all gently and seamlessly merged around everyone else's in a sort of neighbourhood of our pasts. This is very much not that.
Everything looks like it's made of plastic, texture and scripting hastily thrown about as if it would make the place feel more realistic and less... unnerving. The server's "little helpers" were the worst of it. It's like they took every uncanny stereotype and crammed it into a handful of people-shaped inquisitors whose sole purpose seemed to be to glide amongst the glitching humans and occasionally swarm one person until they screamed that they were content.
My days, though it could have been years at this point, were nothing more than a continuous trudge in the direction I picked when I first "woke up" here. The monotony is only ever briefly interrupted by someone screaming "I am content!" and even then, the screams are beginning to feel like a background hum.
I should have opted for death.
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